I arrive at home after a long day at the barbershop to find my loving husband, playing the new xbox game I got him for Christmas. His wide eyes locked on the screen, I can barely get a response from him as I enter with a “Hey babe, I missed you today!” The assorted snack wrappers from a day of binge-playing and vegging out lay surrounding his position on our bed. The smell of man-funk and harvest cheddar sun chips makes me want to gag…
Part of me, exasperated, holds back the “ARE YOU F*CKING KIDDING ME!?” That wants to blurt it’s way out of my lips, but I remind myself that it’s his day off, and it’s not a big mess, so not a big deal. Though I know that I will more than likely be the one picking up the trash, it could be worse. I try to keep in mind that I’m prone to vegging out on my days off as well…
“Babe, can you go grab me some juice?” He asks, just as I sit back in a comfy position on the bed with my tablet.
“You couldn’t have asked me that while I was still up?”
“I just realized I need more juice.”
“It only takes everything in me to get my whale pregnant ass up off of this mattress, but ok.” I say snidely.
Really though… WHY!? We don’t have a bed frame, or box spring, I can’t tell you how many time’s I’ve pulled a muscle in my butt cheek getting up off of the bed wrong. I may be 7 months pregnant, but I look and feel like 11 (at least it seems that way.) Our hunt for a used bed frame and box springs has been useless, and it is getting harder and harder by the day to get up off of our bed. I mean, it’s not like he hasn’t been sitting on his freaking ass all day, he can’t get his damn juice himself?
“This is why I call you my man-child.” I say breathlessly as I push myself up off of our bed.
After cleaning up after him, taking care of him when he is sick, watching him play his games, cuddling him when he gets sad, holding him when he is cold, for FIVE years of my life, I wonder sometimes If I am a mother or a wife haha.
Don’t get me wrong, my husband takes care of me in many ways too. Just different ways I guess.
I wonder if this is what being a mother is going to be like, at least in some sense… Taking care of someone who needs me, regardless of how shitty I feel, how tired I am, or how much I simply don’t want to get up. The difference being, our son will actually depend on me, whereas my husband is perfectly capable of doing things his damn self. I could get into the embarrassing gory details of the other ways I have had to take care of my husband, but it will be different as a mother, I’m sure of it….. Or will it be, really? At least I’m getting some sort of practice for the real deal, although I’m sure that doing this with a child will be much different.
Being pregnant, the little whiny voice my husband uses to bend me to his will is actually quite cute. It used to bug the shit outta me, but now, something about it makes me coo. I’m getting to that “annoyingly affectionate” stage in my pregnancy that my husbands “daddy book” described… Maybe that’s why. He just makes me melt. I hope I will continue to think the whiny thing is cute when it is my son…